She held up her ten pretty little claws. A tiny hand they were mountedon, too.

Hunston surveyed it with the eye of a connoisseur, and looked theadmiration he wished to convey quite extravagantly enough for a vainwoman to understand his meaning.

"Exquisite," he said. "It would be flattery even to be scratched bysuch models."

She laughed.

He resumed.

"And so they never go forth for fear of the brigands?"

"Never."

"Their lives must be wretched, so confined to the house."

"Aye, but they go out to sea."

"To sea?"

"Yes, in their sailing boat; the two boys are always out fishing,sailing, and what not."

Hunston pricked up his ears at these tidings.

"Yes, on the water they are allowed full liberty, for brigands andcats, according to Signor Harvey, are the two animals that fear thewater most."

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Hunston, "very good indeed, but I never knew thatbrigands so feared the water."

"So Signor Harvey says," replied Marietta. "Indeed he says that a barof soap and a bowl of water would frighten a brigand more than a wholearmoury of firearms."

This was true.

Brigands may look picturesque when seen from a distance.

At close quarters they are, to put it mildly, objectionable.

If they do not hold soap and water in absolute fear, as Dick Harveysaid, they at least look upon them as vanities and effeminaciesunworthy of desperadoes.

* * * * *

"So, so," muttered Hunston, as he walked away, "I shall secure themyet. For through the boys I can get at the father and at Harvey. Hah!"

At this precise moment a heavy hand was placed upon his shoulder.

There was a professional touch in it, which once felt could never beforgotten.

Hunston had felt such a clutch once in England, and the recollectionwas likely to last him as long as he lived.

He forgot where he was, every thing, and instinctively he faltered thisinquiry--

"On what charge?"

"Murder!"

He knew the voice.

He had no need to look round; the voice was not one easily forgotten.

It was our old friend Pike, the English detective.

"Yes, Hunston," replied the officer coolly. "You have been giving me alot of trouble, but it was only a question of time and patience, Iknew. Come along; you are my prisoner."

CHAPTER XVI.

A GREAT DANGER--OFF AND AWAY!--POOR PIKE.

Hunston quailed. He was lost.

So suddenly--so unexpectedly had this come, that he was utterlypowerless to help himself.

Had he been wearing the mechanical arm, he might have able to tacklethe wiry officer Pike.

Bitterly did he curse his unlucky fate.

Recovering himself, however, in some slight degree, he endeavoured toshake off the detective's hold.

"Quiet, now, quiet, Master Hunston," said Pike, "or I shall have to trymeans for tranquilising you which you won't find agree with you."

"Show me your warrant for this outrage," said Hunston.

"Outrage! Hoity, toity! that's a good word."

"I shall call the police to my assistance if you attempt to molest me,"said Hunston, putting on a lofty air.

This tickled Pike mightily.

"Call the police, will you?" he said. "Well, I shan't, for I flattermyself that I don't want much assistance to walk off with such a man asyou--even if you were not lopsided."

Hunston turned savagely upon the detective at this allusion to hiscrippled state and made an attempt at using his one arm upon him.

But Pike was--to put it vulgarly--all there.

He dexterously dodged the blow, and whirling round secured a hold uponHunston's collar--that peculiar grip which is the specialty of men whohave been in the force.

Hunston struggled desperately to get free. In vain.

Do what he would, he found himself being trotted along to save himselffrom strangulation.

Not only was it physically painful.

Hunston had an overweening sense of his own importance and dignity, andthis being run in just like some paltry pickpocket in a crowd, wasgalling to his vanity beyond all description.

What could he do?

He was powerless.

The wondering people stared at this singular exhibition, but theyparted their ranks as Pike and his prisoner came along, and neveroffered to interfere.

Now, during this brief but painful business, Hunston's thoughts ranright ahead of the present dilemma.

He endeavoured to realise some of the possible consequences of it.

The arrest was, he felt assured, illegal.

What then?

What could result from such a proceeding?

Would they detain him?

Could they?--that was the question.

The British ambassador might be influenced by people of the rank andposition of the Harkaways.

This granted, it was easy enough for his excellency to waive legalforms and ceremonies there, and get Hunston transferred to the safekeeping of the English authorities.

At this point Hunston could not repress a shudder.

And why? He thought of what must necessarily follow.

His fevered fancy flew ahead, and he saw himself in the dock, faced bythe stony-faced judge, and put through the torture of cross-examinationwhich laid bare the innermost recesses of his black heart in spite ofhimself.

He saw further on yet.

He shut his eyes as he went on and heard the tramp of the twelve jurorsre-entering the court in the midst of a profound and awesome silence.

He heard the solemn formula; he heard the hollow voice of the foremangive the verdict--

"Guilty!"

All that he heard and saw in his mind's eye, in that brief butunpleasant hustling he had to go through at the hands of the ungenerousand indefatigable officer Daniel Pike.

And Hunston now, being half cowed by his captor, was being driventhrough the streets like a lamb to the slaughter, when a sudden andstartling incident changed the whole spirit of the scene, even in thetwinkling of an eye.

A musket, grasped in a strong hand by the barrel, was swung over theirheads, and down it came with an awful crack upon poor Pike's head.

Down he dropped like a bullock under the butcher's pole-axe.

And Hunston was free.

For a few seconds he could not realise his release, so sudden andunexpected it had been.

"Come along," said a voice in his ear; "away with you, or we shall getinto trouble here."

This aroused him.

He recognised the voice of Tomaso the brigand, and it brought him tohis presence of mind.

Off he started at a good brisk run in the direction that his preserverhad taken.

And soon was out of danger.

But Tomaso was not so fortunate.

Following Hunston at a more leisurely pace, he had not gone many yards,when a firm grip was placed upon his shoulder.

"Halt!" said a voice.

The brigand turned hastily, and found himself in the firm clutch of thedetective.

"I have caught you at last, villain!" exclaimed Pike the detective, ashe twisted his hand into the collar of the garment Tomaso wore insteadof a shirt.

Then, before the astonished brigand had time either to remonstrate orresist, the Englishman exhibited to him that particular form ofwrestling known as the "cross buttock," and stretched him at fulllength on the ground.

Another moment and a pair of real Bow Street handcuffs snapped onTomaso's wrists.

"Neatly done; don't you think so?" said Pike.

Tomaso's answer was a tremendous Greek oath.

"You're swearing, I believe. Now that is a bad habit at all times, andvery foolish just now, because you see it don't hurt me, inasmuch as Idon't understand it," said Pike, who, after a brief, stern survey ofhis captive, added--

"If you cursed me in English, though, I don't know but what I might betempted to punch your ugly head."

Tomaso remained silent, and Pike, after pausing some seconds, helpedhim to his feet.

"Now you are all right, and will come back quietly with me. But how dothe bracelets fit? I've got another pair in my pocket."

"You had better release me," observed Tomaso.

"Now that is very ridiculous, my friend. Why should I take the troubleof capturing you, if I let you run again directly?"

"It will be much to your disadvantage to imprison me, SignorEnglishman. An injured Greek is always avenged in some way."

"Just so; however, I'll risk that"

Pike's coolness added to the rage of the brigand, whose passion fairlyboiled over.

"The fiend I would willingly serve, or sell my soul to, for vengeance,visit you with his direst displeasure, and may all the plagues of Egyptblight you!"

"Thank ye, that's a very pleasant speech; something like what I used tohear at the theatre. But, old friend, you made one little blunder."

"You will see if I have blundered."

"One little blunder, when you spoke of selling your soul. Lor' blessyou, Old Scratch isn't such a fool as to buy nowadays, whatever he mayhave done years ago."

Another angry exclamation from Tomaso.

"You see, the old gentleman has gained some experience as a trader, andhe knows well enough that if he waits a little time, he'll get you allfree-gratis for nothing at all."

"You are a devil, Englishman."

"And you are not exactly an angel. However, if I am a devil, you mayconsider you are regularly sold to me. So now come along; keep yourhands under your cloak, and no one will notice the little decorationson your wrists."

"You are a devil, Signor Englishman; but you will die for this."

"Pshaw! I've collared scores of desperate villains, and they all saidsomething of the same kind, yet here I am,"

"You will die," repeated Tomaso.

"Some clay, of course; but we have a proverb in England; would you liketo hear it?"

Tomaso tossed his head with lofty indifference.

"The proverb," continued Pike, "is that 'Threatened men live long.'"

He then took Tomaso by the arm, and led him on.

"But stop," said he, "those pistols in your girdle are very heavy. I'llcarry them for you, and the knife as well."

CHAPTER XVII.

THE DECOY--A THROW OF THE DICE--THE EXECUTION.

Before Pike and his captive had gone far on their return journey,Harkaway and Harvey, with two or three of the gendarmes, and a minuteafter Jefferson, came up.

"You have caught him then. Hurrah!" said Dick Harvey.

"But this is not Hunston," said Harkaway.

"No, sir; he managed to get clean away. But we'll have him yet."

An old goatherd, who had scrambled down near to the place where thecaptor and prisoner stood, might have been seen to indulge in acontemptuous smile.

We say might, because the fact is that all were so much elated at thecapture of Tomaso that the very presence of the old stranger hadhitherto remained unnoticed.

Nor did he seem to court attention, but remained behind a bush, in aspot, however, where he could hear all that passed.

"Well, we must take this fellow back to the town, and hand him over tothe authorities," said Harvey.

"And then hunt down Master Hunston," remarked old Jack. "I wish we knewwhere to look for him."

"He took this direction," remarked Pike.

"True."

"And, therefore, it is in this direction that we must look for him."

"Right again," remarked Dick Harvey.

"But as he is associated with some desperate fellows, it would be aswell to place this gentleman in the hands of the authorities before weseek him. It is not good to go into action with prisoners on ourhands."

As all agreed on this point, they walked back with the prisoner, andhad the pleasure of seeing him put into a cell from which, apparently,there was no way of escape, even the fire-place having been bricked upsince the attempt of Mathias to gain freedom that way. By the time thatwas done it was too late to think of starting that day, so our friendsretired to hold a council of war.

Pike, however, took no part in the consultation.

That astute detective had formed in his own mind a resolution that, ifit were possible, he would capture Hunston single-handed, thus coveringhimself with glory, and at the same time keeping the Harkaways andHarvey out of danger.

Pike knew that it was a difficult thing to keep them out of danger, andthat if they heard any thing about the brigands, they would be the veryones to lead an attack.

Pike walked up and down, smoking and reflecting on the difficultieswhich surrounded his task.

He had not thoroughly matured his plans when the sun went down and themoon rose.

Few people were abroad.

The audacity the brigands had recently displayed had convinced mostpeople that they were safer indoors than out.

As Pike walked up and down the quiet street, he noticed an old mancrouched up in a corner, wrapped in a tattered cloak, and apparentlyintending to pass the night there.

"Hilloa, my friend, what are you? Are you one of the brigands?"

Pike uttered the words in a jocular manner, but the old man felt deeplyoffended.

"Sir Englishman, you insult me."

"I apologise. I had no intention of doing so."

"A brigand! Signor, I am here--houseless and penniless in my old agethrough those accursed villains! May Sathanas fly away with theirsouls."

"Well, old man, perchance you will be avenged before long."

"It is what I pray for. They burnt my hut, cut down my two fine olivetrees, and drove off my little flock of goats."

The old man covered his face, and appeared to sob violently.

"When was this?" asked Pike.

"Scarce three hours since."

"Was there with them a foreigner--one of my country?"

"I know not what country they were of, but besides the Greeks, therewere two men who seemed leaders; one was called Signor Toro, the otherwas named Hunston."

"How many were there in all?"

"Three Greeks besides the two foreigners."

"Do you know any thing of the haunts of these brigands, friendgoatherd?"

"Aye, well. But till now I have never dreamt of betraying them, forthey never before molested me."

"Lead me to their den."

"You, signer? Why, they are at least five in number, and you are but--"

"But an Englishman! that makes all the difference, friend goatherd, sopray lead on. Here, take a drink from my flask first."

The old man accepted the proffered drink, and then said--

"Well, signor, it is a desperate and dangerous undertaking; but I knowyou English can do almost any thing, so I will show you the way. And ifit comes to a fight, I shall be at your elbow, signor."

"True."

Without mentioning his intentions, or saying a word to any of hisfriends, the detective passed his arm through that of the goatherd andwalked away.

Little conversation passed.

The detective was full of hopeful anxiety about the capture of Hunston;and as for the goatherd, it may be presumed that the loss of his goatsafforded him plenty of food for silent reflection.

They passed the place where Tomaso was captured, and then turned asideout of the road into a dense wood which covered the side of a rockyhill.

It appeared as though the old goatherd was "out of condition," as theathletes say; at all events, the scramble up the rough path brought ona loud and distressing cough.

"Be quiet," said Pike; "you will alarm them."

"No fear of that, signor; we are more than a mile from the den of thevillains."

So they scrambled and climbed away, till at length they reached a placewhere Pike found it necessary to use hands as well as feet to makeprogress.

He had just put up both hands to grasp a boulder over which it wasnecessary to climb, when, to his intense astonishment, each wrist wasgrasped by a couple of strong hands, and in another moment he wasforcibly dragged up.

"The tables are turned now, Mr. Pike," said a voices "You will remainour prisoner till Tomaso is released."

It was so dark that Pike could not see the speaker, but he had no doubtthat it was Hunston.

The impression was confirmed in an instant by the goatherd, who said ina jeering manner--

"Ha, ha, ha! Why don't you capture him? You were so very brave to talk,yet you do nothing."

Pike, by a sudden jerk, wrenched himself from his captors, and dealtthe mocking brigand--for he was nothing more--a blow that doubled himup among the rocks.

But before the detective could escape, he was thrown down himself, andbound hand and foot.

Half-a-dozen Greek brigands then raised him and bore him away.

How far he could not tell, but it seemed, as far as he could guess,five or six miles.

At length they reached a little open glade in the forest where at leasta score of brigands were assembled,

"You have him, then?" said a huge fellow, who spoke with an Italianaccent.

"Yes."

"Tie him to that tree."

It was done.

"Now listen," said Toro--for he it was who had given the command. "IfTomaso is not at liberty and here among us at noon, you shall die."

"I can not set him at liberty."

"You can do a great deal towards it. Unfasten one of his arms--hisright arm."

Pike's right arm was then released, and, in obedience to Toro'scommand, a small table was placed close to him.

On this table were pens, ink and paper.

"Now write to your friend Harkaway, and tell him that unless Tomaso isreleased by noon, as I have told you, death is your doom."

So Pike wrote--

"I am in the hands of the brigands, and unless Tomaso is released bynoon, I shall be killed. But I am not afraid to die; hold your captivefast."

Having signed it, he held it out to Toro, who read it, and then calleda messenger, to whom he entrusted it for delivery.

Then the brigands sat down to breakfast, and Pike was left to hiscontemplations. These, as may be imagined, were not of the mostpleasant kind.

Hour after hour passed.

The brigands were some sleeping, some playing cards, and all enjoyingthemselves in some way, but no one took any notice of the prisoner.

The sun rode high in the heavens, and it was evidently approachingnoon, when the messenger returned from the town with a letter.

It was addressed to Pike, but Toro opened it.

It was not from Harkaway, but from the chief of the police, informingthe unfortunate detective that the Greek government declined to makeany terms or drive any bargain with brigands, but that any ill usageMr. Pike might suffer would be most effectually avenged.

"You hear this?" said Toro.

"I do."

"Then say what prayers you remember, and make your peace with Heaven,for at noon you die."

"Let me be the executioner," said a brigand who stood by.

"Not so," exclaimed another; "the task is mine by right."

"Peace!" said Toro. "The dice shall decide his fate. The highestthrower shall have the pleasure of shooting him."

The brigands, in obedience to a signal from the chief, gathered roundhim, a short distance from the prisoner.

Dice were produced and the game began.

"Double four," cried the first thrower.

"That man stands a good chance of being my executioner," thought Pike."To fancy that I, who have been the terror of evil-doers in England,should be the sport of these dirty brigands. Why, I could well thrashhalf-a-dozen of them in a fair stand-up fight."

At this moment a loud peal of laughter greeted the second dicer.

"Ace--two."

"My chance is worthless," said the man.

"Worthless!" muttered Pike to himself. "Aye, you are indeed worthless,compared with some of the English villains I have hunted down andfought for life or death. I could die like a man if I only had to diein a fair hand-to-hand fight with such a man as Birmingham Bill, thevery first murderer I ever coped with; but I'll show them how anEnglishman can die."

"Double six!" shouted one of the brigands, as he threw the dice.

The man was the smallest and ugliest of the lot, but it seemed veryprobable that he would be Pike's executioner. At all events, hecarefully loaded his carbine.

"To be shot by such a villain as that!" thought Pike. "It would havebeen better if one of the shots fired by that burglar fellow they callthe 'Whitechapel, Devil' had taken effect; six times he fired, and thenwe had a good ten minutes' tussle before I could secure him."

At length all the brigands had thrown with the exception of Toro.

"Double six again!"

As it was a tie between the two, each had another throw. The littleugly brigand threw.

"Two--three."

Toro then took up the dice, shook them well in the box and made hiscast.

"Five--four!"

And Toro was hailed the winner.

"Prisoner, I give you two minutes to prepare."

"Brigand, I am prepared. Such sins as I have committed, I have repentedof, so do your worst; but rest assured that vengeance will some dayovertake you. To Heaven I commend my soul!"

With as much composure as if he had been practising at an inanimatetarget, Toro raised his gun, and counted--

"One!"

"Two!"

"Three!"

At the word three, he pulled the trigger. The report echoed from rockto rock, and the head and body of poor Pike fell forward, as far as theropes that secured him to the tree would permit.

He was dead, the bullet having penetrated the brain.

* * * * *

That evening, as Harkaway, Harvey, and Jefferson returned from anunsuccessful attempt to rouse the authorities, they found that two menhad left a heavy package at the house.

On opening it, they were horrified to find it a section of a hollowtree, nearly every portion of the wood having crumbled away, leavingthe bark intact.

And in the hollow was the body of the poor detective and a brief note.

"The fate of all brigand hunters. Beware!--TORO."

"Vengeance for this, at all events," exclaimed Harkaway.

"Poor Pike! We should be unworthy of the name of Englishmen did we notpunish thy murderers."

He wrote a note to the mayor.

"SIR,--In the huge package that accompanies this note, you will findthe body of an Englishman, who has this day been murdered by brigands;I call upon you, in the name of Heaven, to rout these murderers out oftheir dens, and bring them to justice. Should you show any backwardnessin so doing, I shall deem it necessary to appeal to the Englishambassador.

"Your obedient servant, "J. HARKAWAY."

Having despatched a couple of messengers with the body and letter, theysat down with sorrowful hearts and small appetites to their eveningmeal.

CHAPTER XVIII.

HUNSTON IN THE CAMP AGAIN--RETROSPECTION--A DEVILISH PLOT--DARKCLOUDS GATHER OVER THE HARKAWAYS.

"Who goes there?"

"A friend."

"The word?"

"Mathias."

"Stand; advance a step, and I fire. Ha! I see you now. I did notrecognise your voice, Hunston."

"I thought not; but why all this precaution?"

"Fear has induced us to change the countersign. We believe there ismischief abroad, and so extra precautions are needed."

"Right, Ymeniz," said Hunston, who had been out scouting for a fewhours after the execution of Pike, "although it is to be feared thatthe blindness which prevents your recognition of a friend and comrademay mislead you as to the real character of an enemy, should one dareto penetrate thus far."

The sentry laughed.

"Fear nothing on that score, Hunston," he said.

"Indeed I do."

"My carefulness may turn even friends into enemies, but fear, or overcarefulness--"

"It is much the same thing," suggested Hunston.

"Right; but it is not likely to make me take foes for friends."

"I doubt it."

"You have a cunning tongue, friend Hunston," said the sentry, who wasjust a little bit nettled, "but I don't believe that you could provethat to my satisfaction."

"I might do it to the one or the other," returned Hunston, caustically;"but certainly not to both, the two are so opposed."

This was just a dash too subtle for the sentry, and so Hunston passedon without further remark.

A few steps further on he came to a group formed of the brigands,gathered around Pedro, a brigand who had been of some little assistancein the rescue of Hunston, but who unlike Tomaso, had managed to escape.

He was recounting the late adventures--from his own episode in thetale--of Hunston.

Hunston walked up to the centre of the group.

"Pedro," he said, "you rescued me, and perhaps saved my life; accept myhand, and with it my eternal gratitude." Pedro stepped back. He wincedinstead of taking the proffered hand, and his countenance fell.

"Pardon me Hunston," he said; "I'm very glad to have been of service toyou, to have been able to save a comrade, but--"

He paused.

Hunston frowned.

"But what?"

"Don't be too grateful."

The tone, no less than the nature of the request, sounded just a littlebit comical, and it made the bystanders, Hunston included, smile.

"What do you mean by that, my preserver? Why should I not be grateful?"

"Because I have heard it said that your gratitude brought bad luck toanyone who had really befriended you."

Hunston started.

He thought of Robert Emmerson.

That arm did its inventor's work well, indeed.

Not a day passed but Hunston realised the truth of the legend inscribedon the mechanical arm.

Not a day passed, but that he saw how fearfully was the legacy ofvengeance bequeathed by the murdered Protean Bob being carried out.

Dropping his glance in some confusion for a moment, he turned sharplyupon the brigand after a little reflection.

Pedro could know nothing of the death of Emmerson.

Nay, it was more than probable that the very name was utterly unknownto these men.

"You wish to insult me, Pedro," he said, "and so cancel the obligationI am under to you. But beware of going too far, for you may leave abalance upon the wrong side, and I am as quick to avenge an insult asto--"

Pedro interrupted him with a laugh.

"What did I say? I have only just rendered you a great service--atleast, so you say--"

"And mean."

"And mean, perhaps; and yet you are already threatening me. When I saidthat your gratitude is said to bring bad luck to anyone, I was onlyrepeating an idle saying--as I thought--but it seems like the truth,after all."

Hunston was moving thoughtfully away, when the brigand's words stoppedhim.

"That's a queer lot," muttered the brigand to himself, "a very queerlot. I think I would sooner have the murder of a priest on myconscience than be weighted with the deeds that he'll have to answerfor."

Pedro was no fool.

His observations were pretty well to the point.

Hunston felt the pangs of remorse.

Daily, hourly, in fact, he looked back and thought of what he was, andwhat he might have been had not his vicious propensities got the upperhand of him at the critical turn in his career.

And so the demon remorse played havoc with him already.

The mechanical arm was responsible for all. Its mysteriousdisorganisation had been the direct cause of his forced inactivity.

What gives ugly thoughts such power over one as bodily inactivity?

Nothing.

Robert Emmerson, your vengeance is as terrible as it is unceasing inits action.

* * * * *

Hunston sought the widow of Mathias.

"I have made good progress, Diana," he said, "for I have learnt enoughabout the enemy to make sure of getting some of them at least into ourpower."

The listener's eyes glistened at the words.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"What do you propose to do, then? Tell me."

"Harkaway has a son--a mere youth."

"I know it."

"Well, this boy is a dare-devil, bold and fearless lad; nothing candaunt him. He is, in fact, what his hated father was when first I knewhim, years and years ago."

A faint and half-suppressed sigh escaped him as he uttered this.

"What of this boy?"

"This boy has a companion called Harry Girdwood."

"Well."

"Well, these two boys are to be trapped, if it be gone about carefully--very carefully, mark you."

"That can be done, of course."

"It can--by you."

Diana stared again at this.

"By me?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"Listen. They pay a certain respect to us--hold us in some fear, infact--and the boys, who are regular rovers, like their parents andfriends, have only permission to cruise about in their little yacht."

"How did you learn this?"

"From Marietta, the servant of the Harkaways."

"Hah!"

"Now, with care, the boys might be lured, perhaps, away from the partof the coast which they know, and let them once touch the shore out ofsight and hearing of their friends--"

"I see, I see," ejaculated the widow of Mathias. "I can entrap them, Ibelieve. But tell me first, what is the object of securing these twoboys?"

"The object!" ejaculated Hunston. "Why, surely that is clear enough.Let us once get hold of them, and we can make any terms we like withthe father and friends. We shall have to dictate the conditions, andHarkaway will have no choice but to accept them."

"I see, I see," cried Diana, excitedly. "Leave the rest to me; I'llundertake to get them into our power."

"How?"

"No matter how; you have done your share of the business. Be mine thetask to secure the rest."

"When?"

"To-morrow."

"Good!" said Hunston, gleefully, "good! I feel a presentiment of luck.I'm not superstitious, but I feel as certain now that we shall succeed--as certain as if the boys were already in our power."

"Down with sail, Jack; we shall be over if we are not sprightly," saidHarry.

Young Jack laughed.

The thought of danger actually made him merry, and so proved that hewas every inch a Harkaway--a thorough chip of the old block.

"There's no fear, old fellow," he said.

A sudden gust of wind caught the sail, and caused the boat to give sucha lurch at this very moment that both the boys were sent flying.

They got some hard knocks.

But neither was afraid of a little rough usage, and so they onlyscrambled to their feet, laughing boisterously, as if there was greatfun in barked shins and bruised arms.

"I told you so, Jack," said Harry Girdwood.

"No harm done," retorted Jack, rubbing a damaged part and grinning.

"No, but don't let us be too foolish; we might get into trouble."

Young Jack roared at this.

"Soho-ho!" he cried. "Shipped another passenger, Harry, have you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why, you've got Captain Funk aboard."

"Not I," returned Harry, "only if we get into any foolish scrape, theywon't let us come out for a sail again, and as this is the only jauntleft us, we may as well keep ourselves quiet."

"There's something in that," said young Jack,

So saying, he set about reefing the sail with all possible despatch.

Now it was barely accomplished when a violent gust of wind drove thelittle craft along at a furious rate.

It was only just in time.

A moment more and the sail would have been shredded, or, what was stillworse, the boat would have been capsized for a certainty.

Harry Girdwood lowered the oars and pulled sharply along before thefury of the gale, while young Jack baled out a little water that hadbeen shipped in the first heavy lurch, before the youthful mariners hadbeen fully prepared for such violent treatment, and steered at the sametime.

In this way they contrived to elude the violence of the gale for thepresent, at least.

But the danger was by no means overcome.

They had not got through the worst of their trouble as yet, little asthey anticipated any serious danger.

The gale had come on with strange suddenness, and the truth was thatthey could hardly realize the extent of their danger.

It was great.

There was, perhaps, a special providence in their ignorance of theirreal peril, for their coolness alone gave them any chance in thepresent emergency.

They were brave boys both--never were there braver--yet it is nodisparagement of them to say that there was very great probability oftheir losing their _sang froid_ if they had known how verycritical their position actually was.

As it happened, they did the very best thing to do under thecircumstances.

They kept their boat before the wind, and by vigorous rowing, theycontrived to drive along at a rate which was literally tremendous.

And so on they scudded for about ten miles, when the wind dropped alittle, and the pace began to tell upon them both.

"Keep her off shore, Jack," cried Harry Girdwood.

"Right."

The wind and rain had half blinded young Jack, and although he had said"Right," he steered decidedly wrong.

He could not see where they were going.

"Look out!"

Harry Girdwood only just spoke in time for young Jack to take heed ofthe warning, for a minute later and they shot past some sharp, jaggedrocks, into which they would inevitably have dashed but for a lucky tugat the rudder at the very last moment.

Now the roar of the wind and waters had just begun to lull a little,when a loud cry for help was heard.

And then, for the first time, they perceived that a boat had just beenlaunched by a boy at not more than thirty yards along the beach, andbeing carried out to sea by a huge receding wave, had becomeunmanageable.

They could see with half an eye that the boy had no skill in handling aboat.

"Help, help!" cried the strange lad, waving his hand in distresstowards their boat.

"All right," shouted young Jack. "We're there."

Harry Girdwood pulled vigorously towards the venturesome youth.

A few strokes brought them within twenty feet of the imperilled youth,and he would have been got away in safety but for his own folly andimprudence.

"Sit still," shouted young Jack. "Sit still."

"He'll be overboard," ejaculated Harry, glancing over his shoulder.

The words of the latter proved but too prophetic

A cry from young Jack--a piercing shriek from the other boat.

When Harry Girdwood glanced over his shoulder again, he saw the otherboat, keel upwards, floating away.

"Don't fear for him, Jack; he's as good as twenty dead men so far, buthow are you getting on?"

"Hearty. Rather damp outside, nothing more."

"And inside?"

"Damp too. Why, I shipped a bellyful of salt water last drop down;enough to salt a barrel of junk."

Harry turned his attention to the stranger.

"He keeps insensible a very long time," he said to young Jack; "itbegins to look serious."

"Move the scat," said young Jack, "and let us lay him flat down uponhis back at the bottom of the boat. I have always heard that that isthe proper thing to do."

No sooner said than done.

Presently they were rewarded for their pains by detecting a faintbreathing.

"How white his neck is," said Harry Girdwood.

"And how small and delicate his hands," said young Jack.

"One would almost take him for a woman."

"He'd pass very well for one if he wore petticoats."

"I'm almost inclined as it is to think that--"

"Ha! He's coming round."

The youth opened his eyes and stared about him.

He looked half scared at first one and then the other.

"You are better now," said young Jack, taking his hand.

He stared.

Jack had spoken in English in his anxiety.

He put the same sentiment into the best Greek he could muster.

"Yes, yes," replied the stranger, "better, better," and then heappeared to grow more and more confused; "but what is this? Have I beenill?"

"Yes."

"Ah!"

"Not very; it is all well now. Don't you remember--"

The rocking of the boat furnished the missing link in the chain ofmemory, and the rescued boy showed, by a ray of intelligence in hisbright face, that it had all come back to him.

A smile of grateful acknowledgment of their services shot over hiscountenance.

Then suddenly his expression changed.

"Where are we going?" he demanded, with the most extraordinaryeagerness.

"Ashore."

"Oh, no, no, no!" he exclaimed; "not ashore here."

"Why not?"

"You must not go ashore here," said the youth, eagerly, "not forworlds."

"Why?"

Jack was questioning the stranger while Harry Girdwood shot the boatinto a favourable creek.

Harry jumped out.

"Come along," he said cheerfully.

"Safe on shore."

"And precious glad of it," added young Jack.

The stranger looked upon him in anxious expectation, and finding theywere alone, he turned eagerly to his young preservers.

"Put off again," he said; "put out to sea, I tell you."

"Why?"

"You have disarmed me; you have saved my life and shown me tendernessand care--aye, brotherly love. Oh," he added earnestly, "pray go now;at once, while you are free."

"Well," quoth young Jack, with a long whistle, "this is a rum go."

Before another word could be spoken, there was heard a whistle, whichsounded like the echo of young Jack's note; an answer came from anotherdirection, and half-a-dozen men sprang forward from no one could seewhere, and pounced upon our two bold boys, Jack and Harry Girdwood.

"Bravo, Theodora!" cried a familiar voice in English, "you play thepart of decoy to perfection. We have got them at last."

Young Jack started.

He turned pale and haggard, looking in a moment to Harry.

"Do you know that voice?"

"I do," replied Harry Girdwood.

"We are sold, undone. It is the villain Hunston."

* * * * *

It was but a little while after young Jack and Harry Girdwood had beenentrapped, when a strange scene took place.

Evening was coming on.

Brigand sentinels had been posted at each path by which their hauntcould be approached, and one was perched high above on a flat rock,which overlooked everything, without having seen himself except by thevery sharpest of eyes.

Hunston, after visiting the outposts and seeing that everything wassafe for the night, climbed up to this spot, and seated himself on alarge stone.

He felt feverish, and at that elevation he might feel something of thebreeze, a thing unknown down below at the bivouac, which was closelysurrounded by thick bushes.

Strange dreads and doubts filled Hunston's mind, dread of the future,dread of a lingering illness through his arm, which daily grew worse,dread of death, which he felt convinced must be the end, and doubtswhether eventually his enemy Harkaway would not triumph.

For Hunston's hatred of Harkaway knew no abatement; living or dying,the same fierce, unquenchable thirst after vengeance would fill hissoul.

But what troubled him most now was his health.

The shoulder to which the mechanical arm was attached was so painful,it could scarcely bear the pressure of the clothing he wore; the bloodin his veins, after flowing through that part of the system, seemed toreturn to his heart heated almost to boiling point, but that heat didnot stimulate him to exertion.

On the contrary, he felt languid and scarcely able to do the dutiesthat devolved upon him as Toro's lieutenant.

Nor was his brain so clear as in former days.

Ideas he had in plenty, but they seemed to jostle and confuse eachother in their endeavours to settle down into a connected train ofthought.

Emmerson's vengeance was working.

As he sat there, the sentinel remained motionless, leaning on hiscarbine and peering over the edge of the precipice.

Presently Diana, the widow of Mathias, came up the rock, and Hunstonrose to greet her.

"Your husband is to a certain extent avenged," said he.

"How?"

"Harkaway's boy is in our power,"

"That is something, at all events. That girl Theodora, the niece ofTomaso, has done her work well. Vengeance has commenced."

"Yes, but--"

"But what?"

"There is a hitch in the proceedings. The girl is softhearted, andbegged hard for their lives."

"She is a fool! By Heaven, I am half inclined to do the deed myselfwith this dagger."

"In which case Toro would probably do for you."

"What, is he turned craven?"

"No; but he is sweet on Theodora, and for her sake is inclined to sparethem."

Hunston knew well enough that all this was false, as, unless certainconditions were promptly complied with, Toro would certainly kill bothof them without the slightest hesitation or compunction.

But he did not tell Diana.

"But," he continued, "what is your idea of vengeance?"

"I would wring other hearts as mine has been wrung. I would causeblinding tears to dim the brightness of other eyes besides mine. Iwould cause the stern judge Death to pass a decree of divorce uponothers besides myself and Mathias. When Harkaway is a widower, or hiswife a widow, then I shall consider my vengeance partly accomplished."

"Humph! for a woman you are tolerably moderate. I shall not besatisfied till the Harkaways and the Harveys are destroyed root andbranch-till the other accursed detective, Nabley, his American friendJefferson, the negroes, the wooden-legged ass Mole, till every one ofthe party is swept away out of my path. Harkaway taught me to hate, andI swear by all the eternal powers of earth, heaven, and hell, he shallsee how I have profited by the lesson."

Diana was silent for a few moments; then, with something like a sneer,said--

"You are a brave man--in words, Signor Hunston."

"My acts speak for themselves."

"And little have they said for some time past. But listen; I have sworna deep and deadly revenge."

"Well."

"This evening I depart."

"Good."

"When I return again, you may expect to hear that Harkaway is dead orhis wife."

The excited woman glided away, and Hunston, after smoking a cigarette,followed her.

"Good?" chuckled Hunston to himself, "I could not have a better allythan that woman; for she can go where I dare not show myself, and willfind opportunities for carrying out her plans unsuspected. Beware,Harkaway! for though I have waited years for revenge, it is now withinmy grasp."

Words cannot describe the trouble of the Harkaway family at the loss ofyoung Jack and his stout-hearted comrade, Harry Girdwood.

At first their indignation had been so great, that their first impulsewas to use violent means to effect the recovery of the boys.

But the first person to oppose this was Jack Harkaway himself.

"If we were to attack them in force," he said, "it would be imprudentupon every hand. In the first place they would have the advantage ofus, of course, in a mountain skirmish."

"I don't know that they would get the best of it," said Harvey.

"Nor I," said Jefferson.

"We can do nothing at present as far as I can see," said Harkaway."Only wait."

"To what end?"

"Their object must be plunder--money--ransom."

"Supposing that they demand a sum?"

"I shall pay it as soon as ever I can rake it up. If it is more than Ipossess in the world," said Jack Harkaway, seriously, "then I shallborrow of my friends to make it up."

The poor fellow turned away to hide his emotion.

"What guarantee have you that they would give up the boys for theransom?"

"None. But I should not send the money first. They would have to sendthe boys here first."

"They might doubt you."

"Why, yes. But Hunston and Toro are with them, and they know that JackHarkaway's word is his bond, no matter with whom he is dealing, letthem be the veriest scum on the face of the earth."

"Which they are."

"Which they are, as you say."

"Very good," said Jefferson. "Now I don't want to play the part of thewet blanket, and to dash your hopes to the ground before they are halfformed, but I wish to guard against running away upon a false track."

"In what way?"

"All your hopes of ransoming the boys rest now upon the fact of Hunstonand Toro being with the brigands."

"Yes."

"Well," added Jefferson, "how do you know that Hunston and Toro arereally in the band? You only suppose that."

"I can answer positively for that," said a voice at the door.

They turned.

There stood Nabley, the detective.

"Nabley!"

"Nabley here!"

"Himself," said the indefatigable officer, coming forward. "Hunston iswith the brigands, very much with them, in fact."

"That we know," said Harkaway, who then related the death of Pike, andthe supposed abduction of young Jack.

"I have been very ill," said Nabley. "I fainted in the street, and, infalling, severely injured my head. But do you know how that Hunstonfinds out all about you and your doings?"

"Yes, my friends," said the old gentleman, stepping forward with hiswell-known modesty, "it is even so; your much-wronged Mole."

"Tell us how it occurred," said Harkaway.

"I was down in the dancing garden, seated in a species of small summerhouse, taking a glass of--I mean a cup of tea--ahem!--when I fellasleep--I dozed, in fact."

"You would," said Harvey. "I've often noticed that you doze after aglass of--I mean a cup of tea."

Mole glared at the speaker.

"The heat of the day quite overcame me."

"It would," said Dick, in the same compassionate manner.

"When I woke up, I heard two persons conversing close by the greenarbour where I sat."

"Yes."

"Two familiar voices."

"Ha!" exclaimed Harkaway, eagerly.

"Now guess," said Mole, "who the two familiar voices belonged to?"

"Can't."

"Out with it."

"One of the voices," said Mr. Mole, "was Hunston's, the other was--"

"Toro's?"

"No."

"No! Whose then?"

"Marietta's."

"Marietta--what, the maid here?"

"Yes."

"Impossible."

"Was it, egad? I thought so, but I am not easily mistaken."

"Unless you dreamt."

"Bah!" exclaimed Mr. Mole, with ineffable contempt; "fiddlesticks!"

"But did you suppose she was in league with Hunston?" demanded Emilywith great eagerness.

"No."

"What then?"

"He was bamboozling her, twisting her round his finger^ as one mightsay. He had got up a casual chat, persuading her that he was a privatefriend of yours, so he pumped and pumped her about the boys, where theywent, and so forth."

"And did she say any thing that could serve him in his vile purpose?"asked Mrs. Harkaway.

"Plenty to help them, the miscreants, I suppose."

"The girl must be a downright idiot to get into conversation with astrange man after all that has taken place, and after all the dangerwhich she knows they ran."

"Not far short of it," said Jefferson.

"He spoke particularly about the boys not venturing out to themountains, that they were permitted only to sail about in their boat,and--"

Harkaway broke in here with an exclamation that startled them all.

"That explains all," he said. "All, all, I see it now."

"Do you? Explain."

"They have put out to sea and taken the boys, perhaps by stealth,perhaps by violence."

"Likely enough."

"Poor boys, poor boys!"

"And where did all this take place?" demanded Jefferson; "in one of thepublic promenades, did you say?"

"You go to dat dancin' garding for to see dem gals jump about and danceand make fools ob demselves, ignorant critters."

"No such thing, I tell you," said Mole, indignantly.

"Oh, yes, it is," said his better half, "and you's a bushel moreindelicate dan dey is, you silly old possum."

This started the company off generally in a noisy fit of laughter,before which poor Mole was forced to beat a retreat, followed by hisirate partner.

"Poor Mole," said Jefferson, laughing heartily, "it is an unluckyadmission for him. Chloe will give it to him sorely for this, I'mafraid."

* * * * *

They went deeply into the question of ransoming the boys, for they wereconvinced that they had really fallen into the hands of the brigands.

But do what they would, say what they would, they could only come backto one result.

They must wait.

Patience was difficult under the circumstances, but there was no helpfor it.

"Wait till to-morrow," said Jefferson; "it is a hard job, I know, but Ifeel certain that if the boys are with the brigands, to-morrow morningwill bring a message from them."

"But can nothing be done meanwhile?" said Emily.

"No."

"Nothing."

"Stay; you may get some papers printed and circulated everywhere,offering a heavy reward for the recovery of the boys."

"To what end?"

"It can do no harm, and may do good. At any rate, it will show thebrigands that we are ready to pay the piper for our boys' sake."

"That's true," said Jefferson.

"Let's do it," said Harkaway, who was pacing up and down impatiently;"at any rate, any thing is better than remaining inactive."

CHAPTER XXI.

A HOUSE OF MOURNING--THE LETTER FROM THE ENEMY--A STRANGECORRESPONDENCE--THE INCIDENT AT THE OPEN WINDOW--HUNSTON'S REVENGE--DESPAIR.

It was as Jefferson had predicted.

The notices were printed and circulated everywhere by well-chosen andenergetic agents.

Early next morning, a letter was found fastened to the garden gate.

It was brought to Harkaway, who was already up and busy.

He tore it eagerly open, and found the following written in a disguisedhandwriting and in English--

"TO Mr. JOHN HARKAWAY:

"If you would save the lives of your son and your _protege_, hiscompanion, the only way to do it is to bring the sum of five hundredpounds sterling to the stone cross by the old well at two o'clock thisafternoon. Those who have the two boys in their keeping will be on thewatch. Come along, as you value your happiness and their safety."

"Not very likely," said Jack Harkaway.

Instead of complying with this very shallow request, he wrote an answerin these terms:

"TO HUNSTON AND HIS FELLOW-VILLAINS:

"Send the lads back here. Within half-an-hour of their return, themoney shall be sent to where you will and when you will. This Ipromise, and swear upon my honour. None knows better than yourself thatthis may be implicitly relied upon.

"HARKAWAY."

This letter he sent by a trusty messenger to the spot appointed for themeeting place, and they waited impatiently for the further result.

It was not long coming.

Before two o'clock, Marietta discovered another letter tied to thegarden gate, but how it came there they were unable to decide.

Be that as it may, it was soon discovered to be of the highestimportance to them in the present state of affairs.

It was brief and startling, and ran as follows--

"We do not bandy words with you. We offer our conditions. You refuse.Well and good. The consequences be upon your own head. If the money benot paid by four to-day, at six the boys will lose an ear each,"

"The villains!" cried poor Harkaway. "Oh, villains!"

But he was powerless to help them.

He knew well enough that, do what he would, he could not hope to getthe boys back without paying, and paying through the nose too.

Nor indeed did he desire to try to achieve this.

The only question was, would they deliver up their prisoners, once theyhad received the five hundred pounds?

Perhaps.

Perhaps not.

If not, they would be in as much peril as they were already.

Nay, more.

He guessed shrewdly enough that once they had received such a handsomesum as five hundred pounds, they would think that they had drained himdry, or as nearly so as it was possible to arrive at, and so might makeshort work of young Jack and Harry Girdwood.

What was to be done?

He could not say.

He would gladly have risked all that he possessed in the world for thechance of having his boys back.

Aye, his boys, for Harry Girdwood was second only in Harkaway'saffection to young Jack.

But he did not wish to reward the miscreants for ill-treating theunfortunate lads.

At length he came to the conclusion that he would persist in hisresolve to have the boys back before he parted with any money at all.

Accordingly he wrote another note to the brigands.

This he dispatched by the same means as the former note.

"Release the two lads. Restore them to us, and the ransom of a kingshall be yours. Fix upon any sum, however great, provided that it bewithin my means to pay it, and you shall not ask twice. Moreover, Ishall do nothing more to molest you or interfere with you in any way.Play false, or harm a hair of my boys' heads, and beware. You may knowthat Jack Harkaway is not the man to make an enemy of."

The answer to this was not long in coming.

An ugly scrawl upon a dirty piece of paper, and with it was a smallparcel.

"We despise your threats, and laugh you to scorn. That you may know howlittle we are to be trifled with, we send you their ears in proof thatwe have kept our word. By this hour to-morrow the two boys die, unlessyou pay down the sum as fixed upon by us, both in manner and inamount."

Jack Harkaway turned faint and sick.

He dared nor open the parcel which accompanied the letter.

He sent for Jefferson and Harvey, and unable to trust himself to speak,he placed the letter in the latter's hands.

"Read, read," he said, with a horror-stricken look.

Harvey glanced down the letter, and his countenance fell as he passedit on to Jefferson.

"What is to be done?"

"I don't know," replied Jefferson; "I am at a loss. This is toohorrible."